Page 49 of Reign of a Billionaire
Chapter 25
Liana
Giovanni had parked his Land Rover in front of the Georgetown manor that was bought on the backs of human trafficking victims. Literally.
“Stop smiling,” Giovanni reprimanded.
I rolled my eyes, raising my bound hands. “Relax, freak. This will work.”
His eyes blazed with annoyance. “Not if you’re smiling like you’re happy to be here,” he growled.
“Would you rather I cried?”
“No. But at least act scared so he’s not suspicious.”
My “captor” didn’t seem to have a rich imagination. Giovanni liked my plan but didn’t want me executing it. As if he could ever be the one to do it. First, he had a dick. Second, Santiago was his uncle.
Case closed.
“Just get me in,” I muttered. “I have a knife tucked under my shirt. Once I’m alone with him in the bedroom, you get rid of the guards.”
He shook his head. “I cannot risk him?—”
I cut him off with an exasperated breath. “He won’t rape me. I’ll never let it get that far.”
My voice betrayed none of the anxiety I felt inside. I’d gotten good at hiding my emotions. From the looks of it, Giovanni was an expert too. I could practically see his mask slide into place, his face all harsh lines and hard angles.
“Once you end him, take the servants’ stairs. There’s a door underneath that will lead you to the side street. Wait for me there.”
I rolled my eyes again. “You’ve got to learn to say please.”
Without answering, he exited the car, slammed the door, then came around. I bit the inside of my cheek, my heart reeling with so many emotions. Santiago Tijuana was the last man to see my sister alive. He owed me an answer and a life.
Today, we’d settle the score. I only wished I could take my time and make him wail like a pig for days on end.
The passenger door opened, Giovanni’s body hiding me, and I opened my mouth so he could gag me. There’s a first, I thought drily. He was lucky I was desperate to get my hands on his uncle.
“This better work,” he muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips while securing the gag.
I blinked, communicating to him that it would. It had to.
Giovanni threw me over his shoulder—the man had some serious caveman energy—then made his way to the gate that surrounded a charming little mansion with a monster inside.
There had been guards all around, but nobody reacted to seeing me manhandled. It would seem this was a regular occurrence.
Showtime.
I started kicking, my muffled protest barely audible as I fought against the man who was delivering me to the cartel that killed my sister. God knew my mother played the video enough times while torturing me.
As my phony captor made his way into the manor, my half-assed attempt to struggle against Giovanni convinced the guards that I wasn’t here of my own free will.
This plan would work.
“Boss’s nephew is here,” one of the guards spoke into his earpiece. “Alert him.”
Yes, alert him, I thought smugly while adrenaline pumped through my veins. We needed the fucker present and accounted for.
Giovanni strolled inside, up the staircase, and through the hallway until a voice shattered through my erratic heartbeat. A set of doors opened with a loud bang, and I twisted around, seeing my target at the threshold of his bedroom suite.
